The whole palace came to watch.

Adella, the stunning, silver-haired Princess Royal all the realm was dreaming about, was lounging on her couch, reading a book about the history of the distant Aquilian Empire, and snacked on some fresh grapes.
  It was a day like so many others, cooped up in her home by her father. She was dreading that fateful day when he would finally pawn her off to some foreign prince. One did not ask chess pieces about their feelings when one moved them on the board or sacrificed them for victory, but then again, chess pieces were not real people and they certainly were not one’s own children. The fate of a Princess Royal lay heavy on her heart, would she ever know the things young women around the world were yearning for? Romance? Love?
  Maybe she could be content with marrying for the good of the family instead of love, but one thing she could not stomach was the total disregard for her abilities. To her, it seemed like her father only considered her a womb to be sold to the most promising suitor. He seemed not to care that she was intelligent, that she may do some good for the realm other than spreading her legs for a would-be husband.
  If she was honest, it was one of her most yearned for wishes: Stepping out of her father’s shadow. Not just being “the princess” or “the King’s daughter” or maybe in the future “Prince Bumkin’s wife”.
  She had always prided herself on not being an airheaded woman, unlike so many other noble women she had to deal with over the years. She tried to hone her mind every moment she could. But of course, her father did not help. While her brothers had tutors instructing them in diplomacy and statesmanship, Adella had no such luxury. She had to be content with whatever books she could find around the palace, listen to whispers around the court.
  Queen Caroline was the only one who supported her daughter in gaining more independence. But alas, Adella’s mother did herself not have much power to change her lot in life, and not enough sway with her husband to change his mind. If the King wanted something, then that was what would happen. At least Caroline supported her daughter’s mental pursuits and provided her with books to read.
   At one point, Adella had thought she should be the heir to the throne, but she had given up on it since. She had realised, that a realm as male-dominated as Mirantia would not accept a Queen easily and her younger brother Stewart did slowly become a more responsible person—whatever triggered that change she did not know—he might make a fine King one day. It was only Duncan that worried her, he was far too immature to ever be King, something that would never happen, hopefully.

Adella was stirred from her melancholic thoughts, as her lady-in-waiting Courtney burst into her chambers. She was out of breath.
  ‘Adella! Come quick, Stewart’s fighting some guy on the training court!’
  The princess shot up from her seat, ‘Finally something happens in this damn palace!’

The pair made their way to the courtyard as quickly as their dresses allowed them. A small crowd of on-lookers was already gathered around the two men circling each other. There was Horace, the stable-boy Courtney seemed fond of, and Duncan—with a woman in either arm— among the crowd. Even her father and Norbier were spectating. Adella’s eyes narrowed in disgust, seeing her baby brother so wantonly display his conquests—and wasn’t he supposed to be at study with MacTavish? She huffed and turned her attention back to the “gladiators”. Stewart’s armour lay in a pile near him, he probably matched his opponents’ lighter garments for fairness. She could tell the ladies watching were nearly swooning at his bared chest. She had to admit, her younger brother was handsome, in the traditional manly-man way. He was brandishing a training longsword, his favoured type, she understood. The other man, who she did not recognise, was less physically impressive than her brother. She guessed he was about Duncan’s height and seemed certainly less muscular than Stewart was. It did not deter from his attractiveness, however, there was a grace about his movements that Stewart lacked, but probably made up for with brute ****. Adella thought he looked quite handsome too, with slightly softer facial features and lighter hair than her brother.
  ‘Courtney, any idea who that is?’ she whispered to her friend.
  The young lady shook her head, ‘No, sorry. I just saw them from the window and ran to fetch you. He’s pretty cute, though. Don’t you think so?’
  Adella rolled her eyes, ‘Can you think about anything other than how handsome or how cute a guy is, Courtney?’
  ‘You’ve been looking too, ‘Ella. I saw you,’ she giggled, ‘Who do you think is more attractive?’
  ‘One of the two is my brother if you didn’t notice!’ Adella protested.
  ‘O, I did notice. One can’t help but notice your brother’s burly chest,’ Courtney grinned, ‘Just forget he’s your brother for a second and tell me who do you like more.’
  Adella pursed her lips and looked to the two fighters, ‘I guess the mystery guy is more my type. Huge muscles don’t really do it for me.’ She jabbed her friend in the side, ‘Especially when those huge muscles are attached to my own brother, you harlot!’
  Courtney grinned, ‘Hmmn, you like more boyish looks? Interesting. So, if that silly chastity-vow-till-marriage wasn’t there, would you have a tumble with him?’
  ‘Courtney, you’re incorrigible! I don’t even know the man, he might be some sleaze bag,’ Adella admonished her, ‘I don’t want to hop in bed with someone just because they are pleasing to the eye!’
  ‘It was just hypothetical, Adella. Not like you’d ever defy your father,’ Courtney sighed. ‘I wouldn’t mind a roll in the hay with that man.’
  Adella rolled her eyes, ‘Tell me something I don’t know, Courtney.’

The young man facing her brother was carrying a lighter sword in one hand and a dagger the other. She had read a bit about the martial arts of the continent, and that style of weapon recalled a mention of Aquilian fencing. Who was this man? And why was he sparring with Stewart?
  ‘To first blood?’ he asked his more physically impressive opponent.
  Stewart laughed, ‘Fine, but don’t go crying again because of a little scratch, will you?’

The two closed the distance and started probing attacks against each other. The light sword held at arms-length had great reach but not as much leverage as the two-handed grip Steward used on his longsword. Adella had seen quite a few sparring fights between Stewart and Duncan or one of the guardsmen but never one with such different weapons and fighting styles. The lithe man’s movements were quicker and more fluid than her brother’s but he could not find a gap in Stewart stalwart defence. Every time his sword lashed forward to strike, Stewart’s blade was ready to parry. The Crown Prince on the other hand, found it difficult to hit his opponent. He either dodged his swings or used the dagger to deflect his blade away harmlessly. It became apparent this duel would be decided by endurance and wit, not speed or brute strength.

As they wore each other down, someone had to make a mistake.